Author's
Note: This is the edited
version of Desideratum; future chapters will have NC-17 content that
will not be appearing here, as per 's policy. However
this story still rates an R for violence, language and the edited
sexual content. Also, as this story is set after Wild Arms 3 ends,
there are spoilers
for the entire game herein. So don't read if you haven't beaten the
game yet or care about spoilers.

Otherwise,
enjoy. -

Desideratum

Prologue:
Ascension

The
fire snapped gently and a small flutter of golden sparks drifted up
the chimney as Jon entered Albert's warm sitting room. careful not to
jostle the heavy silver tea set in his arms. Albert's desk was a sea
of papers as usual, leaving him no place to set down his hot and
uncomfortable burden. "Master Albert? Your tea."

Albert's
head was bent among his papers, the firelight turning his reddish
hair into a brilliant nimbus around his pale face. His pen scratched
to a finish and he blew gently on the ink to dry it, then folded the
paper into neat rectangles and set it aside. This done, he looked up
and gave Jon a faint smile. "Of course. I nearly lost track of
the time."

From
a distance, Albert merely looked young and serious, until he came
closer and one could more clearly see his haggard eyes and the lines
of stress that cut across his once-boyish face. At nearly twenty,
Albert had been in control of the Ark of Destiny for almost two years
now, taking up the reins of leadership after the tragic death of
their founder Lamium. Albert did his job willingly and he did it
well, but everything light in his spirit seemed to have died along
with Lamium. When Albert stopped to address them, many of their
people preferred to study the floor, the wall, or their hands rather
look him in the eye.

Jon
had only been a member of the Ark for a few months before Lamium had
died, but he had struck up a rapport almost instantly with Albert,
won over by the other's openness and generosity. Now, he sometimes
lay awake at night, trying to hold on to the memory of Albert's
laughter and the way his eyes had been almost permanently squiched up
from smiling. With each day that passed, it grew more difficult to
remember.

"Yes,
sir." A little digging in his pocket brought forth the small
notebook that held the most recent information on the status of the
Ark's various projects, and Jon flipped to a point about halfway
through the book and began to read.

"There
has not been much headway with Laxisland; there is still only one
convert from that village and the villagers continue to be hostile,
if not acting as if they are downright insane. Likewise, Little
Twister is beginning to look like a lost cause--"

"Tell
the development team to continue researching a workable system of
irrigation for that area. Let's see how quickly they change their
tune once we can bring them the water they so desperately need."

"Yes
sir. Helga thinks that the documents that were recently uncovered
might tie into the tools and drawings found at Dig #73; there was a
slight cave-in at Survey Point #23 but thankfully no one was hurt.
The team sent to try and re-open Survey Point #11 after the cave
collapse reports that they are not having much luck with the
excavation and they think the area is too geologically unstable to
pursue things any further; apparently there have been several
"rumbles and small tremors" over the past few weeks, and
they're afraid that there will be another catastrophe like the one
that closed Survey Point #11 in the first place...."

Albert
took another sip of tea. "And?"

Damn.
Trying to act nonchalant, Jon flipped a few more pages and made a
show of scanning his remaining notes. "Umm..that's pretty much
all, sir," he said and felt his cheeks burn as Albert looked at
him.

"Nothing
at all about the tip from Little Rock?"

Oh
no. Jon squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. "There
was...absolutely no sign of the Maxwell Gang, sir. The tip...was
apparently false."

"Apparently
false." Albert's voice was absolutely level, devoid of all
infliction. "So once again those Drifters have managed to elude
us?"

"It-it
seems so, sir."

Except
for a few soft crackles from the fireplace, there was absolute
silence. Trickles of nervous sweat ran between Jon's shoulder blades.

Albert's
next words were very soft.

"Almost
two years, Jon. Do you realise that it's been almost two years since
Master Lamium was murdered by those he once trusted? Nearly two years
and we are no closer to bringing those Drifters to justice? My shame
grows greater with each day that goes past without their capture."
Albert's voice began to rise. "I've tried everything, we have
justice on our side and yet they've disappeared as if into thin air
and my--Master Lamium's spirit will not rest until he is avenged! I
can hear him at night, Jon, talking to me! Telling me that he suffers
because I can't find those responsible for his death!"

Jon
stood stock still as the tide of Albert's words flowed around him,
hoping that Albert wouldn't notice how his hands were shaking.
Another one of his bad days. I thought that maybe...he was getting
a little better but...

"Soon,
sir," he mumbled once Albert fell silent. "Very soon, sir."

All
the anger seemed to have drained out of Albert, and he sagged back
against his chair, fingers working among his papers. Jon quietly
started to neaten things up, hoping the activity would act as a cover
for his silence. He neatly stacked the tea things back on the tray,
swept a bit of garbage into the bin and looked about for anything
else out of place.

He
hesitated when he noticed the square glass bottle lying only
partially covered near Albert's left arm. Kahi, again. "Sir,
haven't you..." He stopped short once he saw the expression on
Albert's face and groped frantically through his brain for a better
way of putting his thoughts. "I mean, kahi is very strong and
it's been proven to cause nervous trouble in people who drink it too
often, so perhaps you should cut back a little? We can't afford to
have you ill, sir."

"No,
I will not cut back," Albert said, his voice suddenly calm, but
with all the warmth of a wind from Laxisland running through his even
words. He plucked the bottle from where it lay and turned it between
his fingers while the fireplace cast chips of light on the bottle's
thick sides. He put the bottle back down again and it clunked softly
against the hard wood of the desk. "It helps me think."

Jon
stood in helpless silence, clutching the tea-tray in his hands, as
Albert rose and walked towards the fire, clasping his hands behind
his back as he neared the flames. From where Jon stood, Albert was
nothing more than a dark blot of shadow outlined with flickering
gold, a small figure against the towering mantle of the fireplace.

"You
can go now, Jon."

He
blinked. "Sir?"

"Go
to sleep, Jon," Albert said quietly, resettling himself at his
desk. He shuffled some papers, opened a few drawers to look inside.
"I'm about to head off to my own bed as well."

His
eyes didn't quite meet Jon's as he said this, and Jon obligingly
shifted his own gaze in order to spare Albert any embarrassment. Both
of them knew full well that Albert's last statement was a lie, but
Jon was not about to press the point.

"All
right then," he replied, starting to back out of the room,
casting one final glance around to ensure that nothing had been left
behind. "Ah--sleep well sir."

"And
you as well." Albert didn't even look up as he left, but his
voice had softened slightly.

Jon
laid the tray down, closed the doors softly behind him, then bent to
pick up the tray. Balancing it carefully between both hands, he set
off down the hallway, his thoughts muddled in a dull, thudding sort
of weariness. He's getting worse. Those Drifters...the reward
doubles every month, we've searched high and we've searched low, but
it isn't enough. No one thought they'd be able to elude us for so
long...and Master Albert will have no peace at all until they're
captured.

The
light globes in the hallway were growing dim, a sign that curfew was
about to officially begin, and Jon strained his eyes against the
growing darkness so he wouldn't miss the turn-off for the stairs.
Tonight, he'd been planning to help Helga with the translation of the
ancient texts they'd recently uncovered, but he was suddenly
exhausted and his shoulders throbbed with tension.

There's
simply no way I can concentrate on ancient runes tonight. I'll have
to beg off and promise her another day.

One
of the globes winked out entirely and Jon stopped to frown at it.
He'd have to get someone from Maintenance to come and fix it; yet
another chore to be done, another line on his list. He started to
walk again, the tea set clanking gently, in rhythm with his steps.

It's
so hard, watching him try to stay strong for our sake. And if there
wasn't enough trouble already, the leader of that "Circle of
Umbra" has been coming 'round much more often lately than he
used to, and every time he does, Master Albert is so agitated
afterwards...

"Who
are you? WHAT are you?" Albert's voice, thinned with anger,
anxiety and fear.

"Master
Albert?"

"Get
AWAY--!" A muffled crash from Albert's room, as if something
very large had been tipped over and Jon's already unsteady heart
skipped another beat.

The
tea set crashed to the ground.

Another
yell, and this time Jon could hear a second, stranger voice
underlying Albert's.

"Master
Albert?" Jon yelled, breaking into a run, pulling his cassock
away from his legs so it wouldn't trip him. It was only a short
distance to Albert's rooms--nothing had come up behind him, he was
certain of it, so what could have possibly---

His
hands fumbled at the knob. He hadn't locked the door behind him.
"Master Albert! Albert! Please!" He was nearly voiceless
from lack of breath. "Open the--"

The
roar of a bullet ripped through the air, cutting off all words.

ooo

Left
alone, Albert looked through his papers for a few moments more, than
gave up. Acid was rising in the back of his throat and he fought down
the familiar panic and nausea that always accompanied news of those
Drifters slipping through their fingers again. He was no closer to
avenging Master Lamium then the day when the Drifters had managed to
cold-bloodedly escape during the chaos that had followed their crime
and each day just drove the splinter deeper...How much further could
they run?

Albert
cradled his aching head in his hands. And the Master of the Umbra
group...says that if we bring Virginia Maxwell to him, we will
achieve all that we desire...

"No
matter how far you run, Virginia Maxwell," he muttered to the
air, "I'll be right behind you. I swear to you that you'll have
no peace until I bring you to justice for all the wrongs you've
committed against myself, the Ark and Master Lamium! I swear that
I'll be the hand of justice that crushes your misdeeds under its
mighty fis--"

There
was a sound like a snicker from the darkness.

"Bravo,
kid. It's like listening to Princess all over again. Well, actually
she'd be much less florid, but the sentiment would be the same."

Albert
nearly jumped out of his skin. "Who said that? Where are you?"
he demanded, his eyes searching the room. There was no way anyone
could have gotten in or out without his notice, so what--

"However,
I hate to break it to you kid, but you're wrong about her murdering
your beloved "Master Lamium". If you knew anything,
anything at all about that girl, you'd know she's too pure and
good to do something like that. So good and sweet and virtuous she'd
make an angel vomit. So give it a rest, kid. You're chasing a
chimera."

Albert
stood up so fast he knocked his chair over. "What is this
trickery? Show yourself!"

He
was answered by a laugh.

A
very quiet, nasty laugh.

From
the shadow of the ornamental pillars in the center of the room, a
nightmare stepped out.

It
was taller and more massive through the upper body than any normal
human could be, and sharp green fins sprang from its arms. Over its
shoulder was a massive bladed weapon; the creature shifted position
slightly and Albert saw that it was no blade, but a bayonet, one of
the most difficult ARMs to use and master. It--it has a human
weapon? What is this?

Strangely,
it was garbed in what looked like human clothes as well; white pants,
ordinary brown boots and a black turtleneck that had ripped along the
neck and abdomen, showing a small section of stony green skin. The
maroon jacket it wore showed similar tearing along the bottoms of the
sleeves, which were plainly too short for the creature's arms; it was
almost as if the jacket had been originally intended for a
normal-sized human male...

"What
is this? What are you?" Albert whispered, his hands frantically
feeling behind him for the small panic button that was installed in
every room.

Instead
of replying, the thing just tilted its head and stared at him.
Watching it, Albert had to admit to himself that as horrifying as the
body was, the face was considerably worse. The creature's hair
bristled like a porcupine and shone like metal in the firelight and
the face underneath the hair was narrow, pointed and strongly
reminiscent of a skull Albert had once found out in the desert, a
skull bleached and worn almost to splinters by the elements and time.

There
was no mouth to that face, only a series of slender slits running
along the jawline. The eyes...the eyes were just twin points of gold
sunk into a sea of blackness.

Albert's
hands stabbed behind him, seeking the button.

"Oh,
I'm so sorry; were you looking for this?" The creature held out
a hand; cradled in the massive green palm was something small and
white. "'Fraid I took the liberty of removing it while you were
out." Its eyes narrowed. "I'm on a tight schedule here. The
last thing I need is interruptions."

"What
is the meaning of this?"

"Meaning?
Who said there had to be a meaning?" The creature laughed again,
the sound of something small and dry rattling within a hollow space.
"You read too much. That's the joke, you see...'meaning'? There
usually isn't one. But if you absolutely have to have one..."
The monster's brilliant gaze came to rest squarely upon Albert's own.
"Let's put it this way. You and I both seek the same prey and--"
the bayonet was suddenly leveled at Albert's chest "--I'll be
damned if I let someone like you put your hands on Princess before I
can."

"P-princess?
Who are you? WHAT are you?"

"Does
it matter? Listen, kid. I have scores to settle with Virginia Maxwell
that go back far beyond yours," the thing said, and to Albert's
increasing horror, started to advance on him. "I've been waiting
patiently for a long, long time now--"

In
Albert's mind, everything clicked together.

Virginia
Maxwell.

"You're
in league with those Drifters, aren't you," Albert breathed, his
panic forgetting in a rising tide of anger. "They sent you here
to kill me, didn't they. Yes, that must be it!"

"Wrong
again! Weren't you listening? Princess is a good girl. One down; care
to make another guess?"

"I
won't let you succeed! We have a holy mission and it must be carried
out for Master Lamium's sake! GET AWAY--"

Frantically
trying to put distance between himself and that thing, he threw all
his weight against his desk and shoved it at the creature with all
his might. To his immense relief and surprise, the desk hit the
creature squarely in the stomach, knocking it back onto the floor and
then finished things by toppling over, crushing the creature beneath
it. There was a brief yell from the creature, swiftly cut off, and
then--

Blessed
silence. There was no movement from under the desk, no sound, and
Albert, giddy and weak from adrenaline, began to laugh.

He
laughed until the creature simply put up a thick arm and tossed the
desk right off its body. Albert, the laughter dead in his throat,
found himself looking down the barrel of the bayonet once more.

"Nice
try, no dice. Sorry kid, but I have my orders, and you...you need to
rest..."

The
bullet caught him hard in the shoulder and as Albert went down,
gagging on the blood that suddenly filled his mouth, he saw Master
Lamium's face, his eyes filled with the sorrowful pity of regret,
swim before him.

ooo

On
the hills above the Ark of Destiny, a massive purple wolf lolled in
the grass and waited.

It
snapped gently at some passing butterflies, sniffed in the direction
of the moon and stars and examined, with great interest, a mole that
had been unwise enough to burrow up next to it. While engaged in
this, the wolf's long ears turned this way and that, sifting all the
little noises that drifted through the night, waiting patiently for
one particular sound.

As
it studied the mole, a sudden breeze rose and the wolf tensed, the
mole forgotten. Then, in response to some unheard and unseen signal,
it grinned savagely, showing off shining silver teeth.

---Excellent.
He's done it; exactly as planned. Splendid work.

Presently
a figure could be seen in the distance, walking slowly in the
direction of the wolf. Twice it stumbled, the second time nearly
falling, and was forced to make use of the bayonet it carried in
order to stay upright. Once it steadied, the figure resumed walking,
but it was now surrounded by a halo of soft green light, and with
each step it took, its form grew smaller.

The
wolf straightened abruptly as the figure drew near, its tail snapping
back and forth through the air behind it. He moves as if he was
ninety instead of twenty-five.

---Are
you well?

There
was a brief burst of green light and then the glow faded entirely,
revealing a young, blue-haired man, somewhat shorter and slighter
than demon he had just been. With a shaking hand, he flipped his long
bangs out of his face and shook his head.

"I
feel kinda strange. Hollow." The young man managed, with much
fumbling, to strap his bayonet onto his back, then doubled over,
breathing heavily. When he straightened again, sweat was pouring down
his face. "Like--like a balloon with the air leaking out..."

The
wolf cocked its head to one side and studied him for a moment, its
yellow eyes narrowed into gleaming slits.

---You
do look rather peaked, it admitted.

"You
think?"

This
drew a delicate snort from the wolf and another tail flick.
---Perhaps I should not have brought you out so soon, but I had
little choice in the matter. Our window of opportunity has narrowed
rather sharply and we simply can not afford to wait any longer. I'm
afraid that you'll have to bear with me until your strength returns
fully.

The
wolf turned then and stared intently at a spot in the grass just a
few feet away. Under its gaze, a slice of darkness appeared and
slowly grew in size until it was large enough for both man and wolf
to pass through. Carefully taking the young man's wrist between its
massive teeth, the wolf lead him towards the portal; he obediently
stumbled along behind, his shoulders bowed beneath the weight of the
bayonet.

---Come.
We will return to the other side. You will rest and I will bring you
some more energy.

"Fine.
That's just fine," the man mumbled.

---And
while we wait, we shall hold a little discussion on that other matter
that concerns you, Janus...

The author would like to thank you for your continued support. Your review has been posted.